


The Neighbors Will Talk

by dearxalchemist



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Kissing, Romance, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8915179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearxalchemist/pseuds/dearxalchemist
Summary: In between missions they spend more time in her flat, in her bed, and in her shower. All where Illya is captivated by the little things in her world. The smell of her soap and the color of her wallpaper. Oh how his neighbors will talk of him now, grown man taken down to his knees by a small angry mechanic with the softest sheets.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt: @Edenforest: Optional Tags: Established RelationshipDomestic FluffSmut Summary  
> I still don't want anybody to die. I am very against of killing the main characters during the holidays.

PROMPT: Domestic Fluff + Smut

 

Illya’s mouth is enthusiastic while Gaby’s hands slip along the cold tiles of the shower. Condensation smears under her fingertips and she digs for something to hold onto, anything. Her hands end up in his hair. She pulls at the golden locks and twists them around her fingers. Illya doesn’t relinquish his task. His hands fit perfectly at her hips as he kneels under the warm spray of the shower. 

“Illya,” She whines out his name when he pulls her leg up over his shoulder, giving himself better access, a better angle. His tongue maps out the shape of her soft lips and then he laps at her. He’s messy, making a show of sucking and lapping at her tender flesh, turning her cheeks red as he moans from between her thighs and scrapes the edge of his teeth over her oversensitive clit. She sucks in a sharp breath and exhales a curse. Gooseflesh pricks at her skin and she shudders against the cold tiles. Her back arches up and she presses her hips closer to his hands as he draws the orgasm out of her. Illya’s thumbs dig into her thighs, threatening to bruise her as he holds her up. 

Gaby loses herself in the feel of him. Sparks explode behind her brown eyes and she sags against the cold tiles. Illya holds strong though, wipes his lips along her thighs where he presses soothing kisses and then rises. Gaby is practically boneless against him. Her fingers disentangle from his hair and she strokes the sides of his face. Her calloused fingers stroke over his cheeks and he catches her thumb with his red lips. He sucks at her thumb for a moment before letting go. Gaby’s fingers trace his jawline and he lets her scratch at his stubble as he rises, towering over her once more. His knees are red but he doesn’t seem to care as she moves him back under the spray of water. 

“You are very efficient.” Illya remarks as she presses to the front of him, reaching around his body for the loofah and soap. He likes her soap best, it’s some mechanics soap with coffee grounds and a hint of vanilla spice. It’s the kind of smell that haunts him when he leaves her behind for his own flat. 

“I am an agent.” She murmurs to him softly, her lips press over his chest. She traces a rogue drop of water with the tip of her tongue, toying with his nipple as she lathers up, “I’m trained to be efficient.” That dimpled smile of hers makes his heart race.

They spend the morning like this, trading the soap and washing each other’s back. Illya’s still hard in the shower, he keeps drawing his hands over her hips and pulls her into him, pressing her back to his chest. His hands toy with her slight breasts and he feels her back up into him even further, standing on the tips of her toes just to tease him. He growls and the water starts to run cold. They angle out of the shower slowly. Illya turns off the water and Gaby drags their towels off of the hooks he installed for her on the back of the door. Illya wraps her up first, drags the towel over her middle and hooks it around her before he secures his own around his waist.   
They share kisses in between drying off. Gaby’s hands are back around his neck, fingers grazing at the short hair there as he drags her towel over her shoulders. He steers her towards the closet only to press her into the door jamb. She’s impatient and reckless, hauling herself up with his shoulders to hook her legs around his waist. His own towel is lost when she bears down on him. Illya’s groan is lost in a tangled mess of wet hair and he can’t resist the urge to rock his hips up. He’s hard against her soft thighs where she’s still wet and sticky.

“You’re going to make the wallpaper peel,” He murmurs against the corner of her lips. Before she can kiss him, he leads his lips away. He smoothers kisses along the slope of her jaw and down the column of her throat where he’s back to being a calculating KGB agent. He finds the tender spot of her neck before he bites and she shouts. Her hips slide over his his hands presses her back further into the wall where he angles her just right and then slowly guides himself home. A shuddering breath leaves her and her eyes slam shut as she sinks over him. Her back is still damp against the wall and she doesn’t seem to care for the wallpaper at all when his hands press bruises in to her hips. 

They go slow but it’s not for long. Her soft sighs hitch higher and turn into something more when he drives her further up the wall. Blunt nails cut into his back and Illya grounds out his own curse, his mouth pressing open kisses down the edge of her collarbone. Gaby drives him on, her legs tighten around his waist with a dancer’s strength that makes him lose his rhythm. His forehead rests against the valley of her breasts and he’s careful to hold her up with one hand while dragging his other one between her legs. 

Gaby shouts and Illya utters a prayer, nearly drops her as he sags against the front of her, pulling her down to the floor with him. The carpet is plush under his back and he finds himself smiling when she curls on his chest, unwilling to move. Their towels are in wet heaps on the floor and they lay there for a little too long. Eventually they move. Illya dresses her in a smock that is the shade of her favorite coffee, soft and light with cream and sugar. Her tights match, thick and wool and he takes his time easing her feet into boots before kneeling at her feet to tie them up.

“Are you ready for the snow?” 

“I am from Russia, of course I am.” Illya scoffs softly, his lips twitch up into the smallest of smiles as he laces up her boots. His hands pause on her calf and he drags his hands up to her knees, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. He kneels up and kisses her. They get a few more minutes of this before their time is up and U.N.C.L.E. calls. 

She answers his kiss with something light and airy before pressing her forehead to his. Her nose bumps his own and Illya closes his eyes when she traces the edge of his scarred temple. Gaby traces the outline of his face and then dips her fingers lower to his jaw, “You could stay here you know.” She murmurs softly to him.

“Gaby,” His voice drops softly as he falls into the warm caress of her fingers, “We cannot.” 

She huffs, “But we can. The war is almost over. Waverly said so himself. We are almost in the clear.” 

He loves the enthusiasm that drips from her tongue, but he has to face the possibility of Russia calling him home -- no, not home. This is home, wherever this woman is in his life, is home. Gaby is the living embodiment of everything he wants and needs. She strokes his cheek again and then drags her fingers through his damp hair, tilts his head back and makes him look at her. 

Her brown eyes are sharp and accessing, “Kiss me Illya.” 

“My neighbors will worry.” He shakes his head and she smacks his cheek lightly before pulling him in. Both of her brows raise slightly at the mention of his neighbors.

“Your neighbors?” She breathes out the question, lips moving along his own. Illya resists the urge to lean up and kiss her. He watches the confusion twist along her face and then nods softly in her hold. 

“They ask you know.” The edge of his lips touch hers and she finds herself hanging on his words with a sense of anticipation. 

“Ask?” 

“Who the woman is in my life.” 

Gaby smiles and presses a small kiss to his bottom lip before pulling back a bit, “Oh? How do they know?” 

“Soap, groceries…” He hooks his fingers behind her neck and massages the skin there, “Your perfume follows me home. Your lipstick on my collars.”

“Sounds like you’re a very bad agent.” Gaby grins as he holds her head steady and then pulls her forward.

“You make me a bad agent.” He loses his voice, “Spoilt woman.” 

“Stubborn man.” She teases him and kisses him. Her fingers find his wrists and she holds him steady, massages the skin that hides behind the leather strap of his father’s watch. The faint device is still ticking away on her nightstand. Illya kisses her and then drops his head to her shoulder.

“If we do this, we need new building. Safer neighborhood. Better view.” He’s ticking off random words and Gaby shakes her head, confused a bit.

“What?” She asks, blinking a few times as she pulls back from him, “What are you saying?” 

“I am saying we are in clear.” 

“You mean in the clear?” Gaby asks as his hands find hers, their fingers lace together and he squeezes gently. 

“For now. This is best move.” He finds the fake ring on her finger and gives it a tiny twist, “We can replace this too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Edenforest! One of my favorite authors on here, I can only hope you enjoy this fic. I had fun writing these two in fluff rather than my usual cloud of angst.


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